Exceptional Circumstances
by JackOwens1860
Summary: Batman is in a funk. His city lost to a madman, his mind broken by failure, he needs something to rally him back to action. Enter Robin number two to save the day in the only way that makes sense to him... Bruce's POV, rated M for Jason's bad language


**Author's Note: Anyone who has not read the amazing graphic novel Batman: The Cult, will not be familiar with Deacon Blackfire, the central villain of this story. Let me fill you in: Batman has been captured by a man claiming to be a god and his cult of Gotham's homeless. The Batman has been drugged and brainwashed by Blackfire to such an extent he believes the madman to be on the side of good. Held in the sewers, Batman begins to fight the mind control only to find he has no way of escaping his prison. Enter Robin, Jason Todd, who rescues the big man at just the right time. However, upon rising to the surface, the dynamic duo discovers Gotham is no longer under control as Blackfire's followers have multiplied and are laying siege to its citizens. In no condition to continue the fight, Bruce calls Alfred to collect them. They exit Gotham with Bruce vowing never to return again…**

**And you're back in the room. Enjoy.**

**Exceptional Circumstances**

I am lost. I have had my spirit, my will, broken. I am lost. Gotham lies in ruin, finally pushed over the edge and into the oblivion. I allowed this to happen. I have been overcome. The Batman is broken and done. Gotham belongs to Deacon Blackfire, a man who was revealed to be smarter than me in the simplest of ways. I am lost to the darkness, the night. The city streets run red with the blood of the innocent, people I failed to protect. I have lost my nerve…

I have lost my city.

"Snap out of it, big guy."

I look up to find Robin is still here, in the cave with me. The boy looks worried for me. He stands in front of me, his costume torn and frayed from nearly losing his life twice in a single night. He was nearly killed by a frenzied mob TWICE because I hesitated. The only thing that stirred me enough to save my partner was instinct…without it, Robin would be nothing more than another victim of Blackfire's crusade. I almost let my only ally in this war perish. I look away.

"SNAP OUT OF IT BRUCE!" My head jerks back to the boy. His expression has morphed into anger, his most reliable asset. He wanders closer to my position, his hands balled into fists. "Get your ass up and out of this funk, right now! We're needed." He tells me firmly. He is still so young, so naïve of this world we inhabit…

SMACK

I am in shock. Robin just struck me across the face, not with an open-hand but a heavy, powerful fist. I touch my lip and find blood. I look up only to be hit again, even harder than before on the opposite side. I try to stand up only to be forcibly put back down. The boy's finger is in my face, pointing at me accusingly. "You are fucking pathetic." He says, disgust oozing from every syllable uttered. His face too holds only disgust for my current condition. "You are fucking pathetic and not the man I signed up to fight crime with. He would've pulled himself out of whatever tailspin he was in and got back on with the job. You, you make me sick."

I keep forgetting this Robin is not Dick. This Robin has no fear of incurring my displeasure or my wrath. This Robin is toughened by a life on the very streets I patrol night-after-night. This Robin is naïve of nothing and prepared to do anything. This Robin would die before he surrendered, before he quit. He is…what I used to be…before all of this madness I call a life. Even though he calls me pathetic, the boy does not leave the cave. He stays where he is, glaring at me.

"You gonna take that? Are you going to let some punk-ass, wannabe street tough, with ideas above his station, to talk to you like that? To sock you in the face like that? Come on…" Robin taps his chin, "Hit me back." I make no move against him. The boy shrugs his shoulders. "Don't hit kids? Too bad."

SMACK

CRACK

SMACK

He hits me again and again and again. There is no pattern to his blows, no rhythm to his strikes; they are all unpredictable, but laced with the same raw power and speed. I want to stop him, but I am afraid I will break him. "Your parents would fucking hate you, you whiny, little bastard." Robin says in-between hits in his usual, snide tone of voice.

SMACK

The boy is on the floor and I have risen to my feet. Robin is off the ground in a second, his nose streaming with evidence of my counter-punch. He said the wrong thing at the wrong time.

"Have I hit a sore spot, rich boy?" He asks, wiping his nose on his forearm, "Your parents would be ashamed of you for being such a cowardly, weak—"The boy just parries my kick, scoring a hit in my ribcage during his escape. I suddenly feel compelled to beat him, not to merely defeat him, but BEAT him. I want to beat this arrogant brat until he can no longer stand, until he can no longer WALK! I charge for him, knowing his only possible option is to dodge me. When he tries to slide between my legs, I grab his ankle and throw him into the cave wall. He crumples against the rock face like paper, landing in a shower of stone fragments on the floor. As soon as I move towards him, Robin is up and still defiant.

"You wanna dance, freakshow?" I hear him shout to me. I move in again, anticipating a similar strategy to before. When he begins to dash towards me, I am prepared to throw him again.

THWACK

I stumble as the impact of steel hitting bone and soft tissue causes me to lose my balance. A weapon. This Robin uses a weapon, a crowbar or something of a similar shape. I turn only to be met with steel again, this time directly onto my skull. I collapse to the floor, overcome by the impact. In the moment I am incapacitated, the boy drives his full weight down on my chest, temporarily winding me. I try to move only to find he is pinning my arms down with his knees; they are deep into the elbow joints.

"You ready to fight now, Bruce?" Robin inquires his face a perfect depiction of pain. Now I understand his reasoning. This boy may not be the detective his predecessor was, but he understands what drives human beings more than most. Anger is more useful than despair, basic psychology. He purposely enraged me to galvanise a recovery. I no longer feel lost, but bitter. Blackfire broke my spirit, but he failed to take it from me. I can still win, still reclaim my city. I WILL reclaim my city…

"Yes, I am."

The boy's response is to roll off me and onto his back beside me. I stay where I am. After a few minutes of both of us catching our breath, I speak.

"Are you hurt?"

"Just my pride. And maybe my back, definitely my back actually."

"I was wrong." I inform the boy turning my head so we are looking at one another. He shrugs his shoulders.

"About what?"

"Violence never solving anything. You fixed me with violence."

"Maybe, but I nearly got killed in the process." I get to my feet, the adrenaline beginning to fade as the bruises start to surface. I extend a hand down to my partner. He takes a strong grip and lets himself be hauled to his feet. He looks unsteady and appears to be fighting the urge to grit his teeth. Our hands remain clasped as I offer my thanks.

"Thank you, Jason."

"Anything I can do to hel—"

"No. I mean thank you…for saving me from the dark." I pull him flush against my chest and embrace him with both arms. "I would be lost without you." I hear Jason sigh before wrapping his arms round me as well. He pats me on the back.

"It's okay, big guy. I understand."

"I'm sorry for any pain or suffering I may have caused with my comments about you during your stay in this house. I—"

"That's enough, Bruce." The boy says pushing me away from him, "I didn't do this so that you'd shower me with praise and apologies; I did this because Gotham needs _us_ to save it. Since there is no _us_ without _you_, I did this because Gotham needs _you_. So let's go kick this guy's ass and take our city back for the good guys, huh?" Jason is always about the mission, never the sentiments that drive it. I know this boy holds some kind of affection for me beyond my role as Batman, as I do for him beyond his role as Robin, but it is best kept hidden. He is right; we have a maniac to wrestle control from. We have a city to save. We have a promise to keep. I place my hand on his shoulder.

"This ends tonight."

**I would do more, but there is no way to improve the graphic novel's conclusion to this awesome example of storytelling.**


End file.
